you've got a friend in me
by doodlechick12
Summary: Five universes where Damon and Stefan fight - each other, robbers, therapists, Harvard morons, love for their women, and spies. AU.


_Hey, I'm in the middle of writing the next chapter of "To Build a Home," but I had a couple of new ideas and decided to put them into a small one-shot as drabbles. I'll be diligently working of TBaH this weekend, so don't worry about that._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Common Law, Suits, White Collar, Covert Affairs, or Bones (I know I've done a Bones drabble with these guys before, but everybody loves Bones.)_

* * *

Five alternate universes where Damon and Stefan partner up for the sake of the law. [It's more interesting than it sounds.]

**Common Law**

"Okay, let's get started. Today, we have a new couple in the group. Everyone, this is Damon Salvatore and his brother, Stefan. They're partners in the police force."

"Hi Damon and Stefan," The group chorused. Stefan and Damon exchanged looks with each other and reluctantly sat down on the last two chairs available.

The younger brother was in his customary expensive suit of choice with not a wrinkle in place. He sat straight and paid attention to the therapist, but felt himself looking at his watch every few minutes, anxious for the hour to be over. Next to him, Damon sat slouched in his chair, wearing a black leather jacket and old, weather wore jeans, along with sleek looking boots. He dragged one of feet across the pristine floor, leaving a long scuff mark on the wood.

Stefan glared at him disapprovingly, but Damon merely smirked in reply. The therapist, a blond English woman, turned her attention towards them.

"Ah, let's introduce everyone in the group then, shall we?" She smiled brightly and Stefan felt his cheeks warm at the sight of her. "These," Dr. Mikaelson pointed to a couple that might have been in their forties, "are Carol and Richard Lockwood. They have a son who probably graduated around the same time you did, Stefan. These," She moved down the line, "are Caroline Forbes and Matt Donovan." The girl, Caroline, smiled brightly at Stefan and Damon and waved.

"Over here are Jeremy Gilbert and his girlfriend, Anna," Dr. Mikaelson said, "and last, besides you two, are Alaric Saltzman and Jenna Somers. Welcome to group."

Alaric yawned and his girlfriend (or wife) smacked him on the shoulder.

"Now, Jenna, we talked about resorting to physical violence when you're frustrated at Rick," Dr. Mikaelson admonished lightly.

Jenna merely sighed, irritated, and said, "Sorry."

"Very well," Dr. Mikaelson grinned, "Today, we're talking about intimacy, and no, not about sex. Intimacy is all about knowing and sharing your inner most thoughts with someone else. Your partner can't know what your needs are if you don't tell or know each other." She put a strand of her long hair behind her ear and pulled out a stack of papers, "That's what these are for; they're partner awareness profiles. I'm giving you homework for this week. They have been specifically written to reignite your curiosity of one another." Dr. Mikaelson passed the stack to the couple closest to her – the Lockwood's – and continued to explain.

Stefan heard Damon sigh noisily next to him, and he closed his eyes and counted to ten to keep his own annoyance at his brother at bay.

"Most couples find themselves here because they've passed through the phase where they feel a physical attraction to one another and now they need to find an emotional one," Dr. Mikaelson said.

Stefan took one of the sheets and held it out to Damon, who merely raised a mocking eyebrow at him. Stefan rolled his eyes and gave the stack to Alaric on Damon's other side. Alaric took one and put it on Damon's knee, saying, "Here you go, man."

Stefan stifled a snicker at Damon's expression.

"Who wants to go first?" Dr. Mikaelson asked the group, and Stefan felt a loss of time – he'd missed the question the doctor had asked.

To Stefan's immense surprise, Damon raised his hand.

"Alright, Damon," Dr. Mikaelson sounded pleased, "How long have you and Stefan worked together?"

"Five years," Damon said at the same time that Stefan said, "Seven."

They exchanged looks, and Stefan said, "Counting the years in the academy, seven years."

"But she was asking how long we'd been partners, so that's five," Damon said smugly and he leant back into his chair.

"Okay, let's stop," Dr. Mikaelson said, "So I'll ask the next question then, shall I? Damon."

Damon rolled his eyes over to the therapist. "Yes?"

"How long has Stefan had that tattoo on his shoulder?" Dr. Mikaelson asked. Stefan looked down and saw that a petal of the rose tattooed on him was peeking out from his shirt.

"No one knows," Damon said, "It's a mystery – Dad was pissed when he saw it there on Stefan's seventeenth birthday party."

"Katherine knows," Stefan murmured offhandedly.

"Don't. Talk about Katherine," Damon hissed.

"Who's Katherine?" Dr. Mikaelson asked.

"No one," Damon said. The others in the group were intrigued though, so Stefan elaborated.

"Damon's ex-wife."

Damon glared and Stefan almost flinched at the ferocity of it. Everyone else in the group were nodding their heads in understanding though, agreeing that they were all trouble.

"Damon," Dr. Mikaelson asked, "Did you and Katherine try couples therapy?"

"No," Damon said, leaning backwards in his chair, tipping it, "We didn't need therapy then, and Stef and I don't need it now."

"Do you see a pattern here?" Dr. Mikaelson asked slyly.

Damon closed his eyes, "Weren't we talking about Stefan's devious teenage years? Because I have plenty of stories that involve pot and girls –"

"You know, in my experience," Dr. Mikaelson plowed straight of Damon's voice, "Critical people are always just trying to keep everyone at arm's length, particularly the ones they love because they don't think they deserve their affection."

Stefan coughed into his hand, "Damon."

His brother punched him in the shoulder, hard.

"And you, Stefan-"

Damon's phone started to ring loudly, and then Stefan's followed a second later. Both hopped up from their chairs, relieved.

"Work, gotta go," Damon said, splitting, "I'm driving, Stef!"

"Damn it," Stefan muttered, "Sorry, Dr. Mikaelson, we'll see you at our next session." He turned towards the door, running after Damon, and shouted, "No, it's my car! You're not driving her!"

Stefan reached his car to find Damon in the driver's side, and so, sighing, Stefan slipped in the passenger seat and flipped on the lights.

"Robbery on Fifth," Damon told him, "They're hitting the bank and they're all armed."

Stefan buckled himself in and gripped the handle above the door in preparation for his brother's fast driving.

"I'm ready," Stefan said, "So what are you waiting for?"

"Just didn't want to shock your sensibilities too bad, brother," Damon smirked.

He pressed the gas, for a moment, Stefan forgot that he and Damon were required to go to couples therapy because he'd pulled a gun on his brother at work three months ago.

* * *

**Suits**

Damon looked at the line of booger picking Harvard graduate morons sitting in the waiting room, ready to be interviewed by him. He looked over at his secretary, a beautiful woman with a mind like a steel trap, and said, "Listen, Elena, I want you to do something for me."

"What do you want?" She asked suspiciously.

"I want you to give these guys are hard time as they're coming in," Damon said, "And if you think they'll make it, let them on through."

Intrigued, Elena asked, "What are you looking for?"

"Another me," Damon smirked.

"What's the signal?" Elena asked him.

"Wink at me," He commanded, turned around and went back to his desk. Out in the waiting area, Elena watched as several of the young men nearly peed their pants after questioned by her, and fought the urge to roll her eyes. What kind of pansies was Harvard spitting out this year?

A young man ran through after she'd called the Tyler Lockwood, holding a briefcase close to his person. He turned around and Elena's eyes widened in familiarity.

"Stefan? What are you doing here?" She asked.

He bit his lip, "Running away from the cops?"

Elena did roll her eyes then, and turned towards Damon, who hadn't heard his brother yet. She winked.

Damon waved his hand and Elena shooed Stefan inside. The dark headed man's eyes narrowed when he saw who it was that entered his office.

"What are you doing here?" Damon demanded, "You know that I'm busy this afternoon-"

Stefan opened his mouth to explain when the briefcase spilled open and bags upon bags of pot poured out. Damon eyed it and threw his head back, laughter filling the office.

"St. Stefan's a saint no more, huh?"

"This is not what it looks like," Stefan said sternly, "My friend-"

"Is a douche bag," Damon finished, "What are you doing delivering pot for the guy?"

"I owed him a favor," Stefan admitted weakly.

"Not anymore," Damon said decisively, "You're coming to work at Pearson and Hardman – you have an eidetic memory. Who needs Harvard? I know that you took the BAR for fun last year, don't deny it – though I have no idea _why_ anyone would take a test for fun, mind you."

Stefan gaped at his brother like a fish.

"Why?" He finally asked.

"Because I need a new associate and all of those guys out there are moronic robots that can't think for themselves. Now, get rid of the pot and buy some nice suits – you can't go around and wear sweatshirts in the most prestigious law firm on this side of the country."

* * *

**White Collar**

When Special Agent Salvatore heard that his older brother had broken out of prison just three days before his parole, he picked up a pillow and screamed obscenities in it.

Why did his brother have to be the most idiotic being that had ever walked across the planet?

What was worse was that the FBI was having Stefan on the search for his brother, regardless of the conflict of interest, mainly because he was the only one who could even vaguely predict Damon's movements.

His wife, Elena, sympathized with him but told him straight that he'd better find his brother before someone else did – Damon had a way with people that didn't get him any favors with law enforcement.

Stefan found him in an empty warehouse with a bottle of bourbon and a forlorn look on his face.

"What made you do it?" Stefan asked him idly. Damon didn't flinch, and if he hadn't known Stefan was there, he didn't show it.

"Katherine broke up with me in prison four days ago," Damon said, melancholy evident in his tone, "So I broke out to try and find her. No dice."

He took a long swig of his bourbon.

Stefan sighed and slowly sat next to Damon. "You're going to go back for life, you _do_ realize, don't you?"

Damon turned his bright blue eyes on Stefan and squinted. He nodded a second later. "Yeah."

"You're an idiot," Stefan glared.

"Yeah," Damon agreed.

The rest of the FBI surrounding the building swarmed in a few minutes later and cuffed Damon. Someone was holding Stefan's arm to keep him from interfering, but it was unnecessary. He wouldn't attempt to free Damon.

Yet.

A week later, Stefan talked to his higher ups and made a surprise visit to the prison and asked for a visit with Damon.

They sat across from each other silently until Stefan put a black anklet on the metal table. It clanked ominously.

"If you wear this and leave the prison, you'll be under my custody. You'll have to help work on forgery cases, along with art thievery. You can't go looking for Katherine. And you can't sleep with Elena. Can you handle that?"

A smirk lit up Damon's features.

"No promises on the Elena clause."

"I'll take it."

* * *

**Covert Affairs [Warnings for foul language.]**

The night before Stefan left on his Iraq Op, Damon had a horrible nightmare. He didn't tell anyone about it, though he'd wished he asked Stefan to reconsider the mission every day since.

The nightmare wasn't about Stefan suffering a life changing injury, but of him dying. Sometimes, Damon things that death would have be kinder.

When Stef came back from Iraq, blinded by an explosion, Damon had to be put off duty to keep him from going to the war zone to blow up every single mother fucker even possibly connected to Stefan's injury.

Rehab was rough on both of them.

Stefan became accustomed to a cane, and Damon learned to give him breathing room instead of holding onto his little brother's shoulder every time they left the house. The progress was slow and arduous, but Stefan was eventually able to move around by himself and walk to the places that he could without aid of a car.

Everything was good.

Then Stefan decided he wanted back into the CIA.

And because Stefan was a grown man, there was nothing Damon could do about it except bitch and harp to Stef all day and every day.

"Damn it, Damon!" Stefan had gotten fed up one day, "I'm not an invalid! I've got a special made braille keyboard and some superior headphones that will work especially for a blind person. I can go to work, even if I'll never go into the field ever again."

So they'd both gone back to the CIA from their extended vacation.

A year and a half later, a new operative came in from the Farm, named Elena Gilbert.

* * *

**Bones**

Stefan straightened the bio suit he'd been forced to wear to examine the body, while Damon merely smirked next to him in his monkey suit that he was required to wear for the FBI.

"What have we got, Stef?" Damon muttered, squinting at the body.

"Female, 5' 7", mid to late twenties, Caucasian," Stefan rattled off quickly, frowning at the bones that lay in the ditch in front of him. "The wrists have indentations here, here, and here," He pointed and Damon nodded, though he had no idea what Stefan was talking about, "She may have been chained up – the metal would have obscenely heavy. Her killer wasn't taking any chances."

"Great, so it was murder, then?" Damon asked.

"You know I can't be sure until I got the corpse back to the lab," Stefan protested.

"That's all I need to hear," Damon muttered, and turned around to shout at the crowd of techs and FBI officers, "Get this thing wrapped up for the Jeffersonian, people! We've got a case to solve!"

Stefan stood up and brushed off the dirt that had gathered on his clothes and followed Damon as the FBI agent walked to their car. He shot a worried glance back at the remains as the techs gathered around and started to move it.

"Don't mess with the crime scene too much!" Stefan called back loudly, "It's all evidence!"

Damon clapped a hand on Stefan's shoulder, "Don't worry, brother, they've got it all in hand." The brothers stepped into the FBI van and shut the doors. Damon turned on the radio, and Stefan frowned at the music blasting out of the speakers.

"What is this?" Stefan asked.

"It's called Acid Rock, Stefan, get with program," Damon smirked.

"I didn't know you liked this noise," Stefan observed and Damon nearly slammed the breaks on.

"What noise? This isn't noise – its' art, Stefan. Listen to it. Like it. Appreciate it," Damon commanded.

Stefan rolled his eyes and simply waited it out until they arrived back at the Jeffersonian. Once there, they stepped out and the younger man was relieved to get back to the bones and logistics of science.

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**Like it? Hate it? Please review and give me your thoughts. Feedback is always appreciated :)**


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